This Is How It Works
by Carousel Rider
Summary: A collection of one shots for my story "Try Until You Can't". It will feature all kinds of things, really, but mostly things Remy gets up too with either Coulson or Clint, so, y'know, anything. Clint Barton/OC; past Brock Rumlow/OC mentions.
1. Of Killer Office Chairs and Presidents

**Author's Note:** Hello! Here is the first installment of who knows how many in this collection of one-shots. These will either fit into the current story of "Try Until You Can't" or be prequel sort of one-shots as well - as in events that occurred _before_ the timeline of the story.

This first chapter is a prequel. It's when Remy and Clint meet for the first time.

* * *

She had only been with SHIELD barely a month and she was starting to re-think this career choice. Sure, Remy Black managed to land some dates with one of the hotties from that special forces team, and she was adjusting to the type of mission reports that were coming in for her to enter into the database (most of it was ridiculous and hilarious, and she was struggling all the time not to laugh at every thing), but sitting in a chair for 8 hours a day, five days a week, was starting to really hurt her body. Her lower back and hips were sore all the time now from sitting for so long, and her knees? She only realized something was wrong when she stood up to grab a document and her legs gave out from under her.

Apparently sitting at a desk was just as bad for her health as if she was an operative. Except instead of getting shot at or blown up, her desk chair was trying to kill her.

Thankfully, the hottie was willing to help her out with this.

"First, get a new damn chair." Brock Rumlow said as they met up outside of the locker rooms. Remy braided her hair back to keep it from her face as she followed him to the mats. Several other agents were there, looking at them curiously as Brock took her to an empty section of mat. "Seriously, you can ask for that, you know. Get something with lumbar support or whatever."

"I can do that?" She asked, tugging her shirt back over her stomach. "What else?"

"How the hell should I know, I don't work at a desk." He teased as he sat back on the mat. "Get down here. I'm gonna help you with some stretches to help with the pain for now." She rolled her eyes and sat in front of him. "Get on the internet and look that other stuff up, though."

"Wow, you're so helpful. I thought you knew everything." She retorted, shaking her head. Brock grinned at her before he laid back on the mat.

"Watch me. This is the first one we're gonna do, okay?" He said as he stretched his arms out on either side of him and brought his knees to his chest. He held it for a brief moment before his knees fell to one side of him while his upper body stayed still. "And then you have to hold this for a few minutes."

"Wait, you had me in this position last night if I recall." Remy teased as she followed his movements. He sat up enough to glare at her. She just grinned, doing her best to hold the position. "It hurrrts."

"Don't force it if it hurts, Remy." Brock said, shaking his head. "You gotta take it easy. It's not going to get better after just doing a few stretches."

"Aw, but Broccccck." The younger agent pouted at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before leading her through another few stretches. They kept this up for about twenty minutes before Remy finally had to stop, rolling on her side to rub at her lower back. "Okay, okay, this is torture. I'll talk, I swear!"

He shook his head and got to his feet. "C'mon. Let's go for a walk around the track." He said, holding his hand out to her. She grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly as he helped her to her feet. "That's probably something else you should do, you know. Walk around before this shit happens."

"Well excuse me for not paying attention to my body." Remy grumbled, sticking her tongue out at him as she shook out her legs, as though trying to get feeling back into them. Brock just shook his head again. Grinning, she grabbed his hand, walking beside him as they headed to the indoor track. There were probably ten other agents there, running laps around the place. Remy and Brock kept to the outside lane, hoping to keep out of the way of the runners.

Every agent that passed them was someone Remy did not know. That was one thing that was going to irritate her with this job – not knowing like, anyone. She knew Brock, obviously, and his buddy Jack Rollins (sort of). She of course knew Coulson and May, and kind of Fury. But that was it. She really wanted to talk more to people, but being new and all, it was kind of hard. She didn't want to come off as desperate or something for making friends.

She sighed softly as she watched the agents run literal circles around them. They barely made one complete lap before several of the runners made their third pass of them. Some of them gave Remy a curious look as she leaned into Brock as they walked. Her knees were hurting just a bit from the walking – or hell, maybe it was just lingering pain from sitting at her desk. She was going to look up that stuff later, however. She didn't want her body to keep hurting.

Someone bumped into her, causing her to stumble into Brock. He managed to catch her to keep her from falling over, steadying her on her weary knees.

"What the fuck, man?! We're over as far as we can go!" Remy snapped, rubbing her shoulder where the runner hit her. "What, you need the entire fuckin' track to yourself?!" She straightened up, glaring at the assailant. Oh, well, _fuck_. Her gaze softened and her eyes widened when she saw the agent.

Was he allergic to wearing shirts, because Remy _really_ hoped so. He was a few inches shorter than Brock with short dirty blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. He had a black eye and some cuts and bruises on his torso. And _damn_ he was good looking with that toned body of his. He also looked generally confused by Remy and Brock. He had stopped running, walking toward them as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Sorry. I saw you, but I also didn't see you there." He told them, stopping in front of them. "You okay?" He was looking at Remy now.

"Uh."

Brock nudged Remy, startling her from her thoughts. "She's fine, Barton."

Remy blinked slowly, looking between Brock and this Barton agent. Then she frowned. "I don't know you."

"I... don't know you either?" The agent replied, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, are you going to scream stranger danger now? What are you, 15?"

"What? No. No! I'm 23." Remy shook her head. "I mean I don't know you as in I don't know anyone here except like, five people. I'm new here."

"Oh."

They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes until they were interrupted by a cellphone going off. Brock looked a bit sheepish as he pulled his phone from his pocket and walked away from them to answer it. Remy rolled her eyes and looked back at the agent. "I'm Remy Black. I've been here like, a month. Who are you?"

"Oh, so _you're_ Remy Black." He said with a grin and a nod. "I'm Clint Barton."

"I think I've heard of you." She replied, frowning. "And what do you mean ' _you're_ Remy Black'? I'm new. What the hell?"

Clint grinned. "Coulson's told me about you. Mostly the embarrassing shit, though."

"Oh, of course." Remy rolled her eyes. "I don't want to know what he told you about me."

"Only the embarrassing shit." The archer was still grinning at her.

"Yea, sure. You know, I think he's told me some things about you." Remy said, tugging down the hem of her shirt. "But usually he starts a sentence with, "That fucking Barton" because I guess you do your own shit, huh?"

"Pretty much." Clint shrugged. "Coulson's great, though. Helped recruit me."

Remy nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow. "He's good at that, isn't he."

"Suppose so."

They stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes. Remy couldn't take her eyes off him, because seriously, _damn_. He looked good. And even smelled good. That had to be Old Spice, which was a welcome change from Brock's awful aftershave that was starting to soak into Remy's clothes just by being close to him. Clint was looking her over, almost studying her, though his eyes were lingering a bit to long on her chest. Probably because she was wearing that bright orange sports bra under a white t-shirt.

Clint cleared his throat, taking his eyes off her to look toward Brock. The other agent had wandered off to the other side of the track, still talking on the phone. "So, you and him?"

"Yea, I guess me and him." Remy replied with a shrug. "He's just part of my plan."

"Plan?" Clint repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What plan?"

"To sleep with every SHIELD agent." She told him, her expression serious. "Starting with Brock and his guys before working my way around."

Clint looked between her and Brock again. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he kept silent, frowning a bit. Remy grinned.

"I'm kidding."

"Oh. _Oh._ " Clint nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Okay. I mean, you do what you wanna do. And if you really were gonna do it, I'd be curious how Fury is in bed."

"Oh my God, no, don't." Remy laughed, shaking her head. "Don't bring the Director into this. I don't need rumors to start after my first month here."

"Aw, but those would be great rumors!" Clint said with a grin. "I can start them for you. I'll tell Coulson and have him spread it." His grin grew wider as he saw a horrified expression cross Remy's face. "C'mon, let's make you a legend in SHIELD."

"You are a terrible, horrible, no good man, Agent Barton." Remy scolded, crossing her arms across her front as she shook her head. "You're gonna set me up to be executed by SHIELD forces or something. Geez."

"Aw, no, I'm teasing." He insisted. "I wouldn't. Trust me."

"Uh huh." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know if I can 'cause like I said, you're the one Phil starts every sentence with, "That fucking Barton", so..."

"Aw, no, I'm good."

Before they could carry on, Brock returned, pocketing his phone. He looked at the two before putting his arm around Remy and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He failed to see her roll her eyes at the gesture.

"I gotta go. Work stuff." He said before pulling back. "I'll see you in a few days, all right?"

"Yea, okay." Remy replied, giving him a smile. "Don't die or whatever."

Brock nodded to Clint before walking off, leaving the two there alone once again. Remy just shook her head and looked back at Clint, giving him a quick look over as she bit down on her bottom lip. Fuck. He was good looking and it was difficult not to stare. And it sounded terrible in Remy's head, but she wondered why couldn't she have met Clint before Brock?

"So, how did you two meet?" Clint asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Remy blinked slowly. "Oh, uh. He was one of the agents who trained me and the group of newbies that I started with. I sassed him a little too much and then asked him out for dinner."

"Wow." Clint nodded, looking impressed. "Must have been some level of sass."

"Oh, it was." Remy grinned. "But uh, yea. That was like... five weeks ago or something. I dunno. Something like that."

Clint nodded again. "Okay, cool. Well, uh, I should get back to my... stuff. I'll see you around, though, Agent Black."

"Yea, uh, see you, Agent Barton." Remy replied, holding out her hand. "Maybe we can go get drinks sometime, you know? Talk shop about all this super secret agent stuff. I'll tell you how I flirted shamelessly with the king of Montenegro and got him into bed with me."

Clint couldn't help but grin at that as he shook her hand. "There's no king of Montenegro, Remy. They have a president."

"Yea, no king now, because I got him into bed with me." She teased, not letting go of his hand just yet. "Stole his throne right out from under him. I keep it in my apartment for when I feel the need to smash the patriarchy. Or order pizza and argue about toppings."

"Oh my God." Clint chuckled as he dropped her hand and started to walk away. "Anyways, see you later, Agent Black."

"See you around, Agent Barton."

* * *

 **Closing:** I hope you enjoyed this. I actually have a few more lined up to post eventually.

Like, if I ever finish them, that is.


	2. Eight Legged Monster

**Author's Note:** So these one-shots do not follow any particular order. I will say when they are set, however, just to make it easier to understand. So this newest one that I wrote today (because dear god it's fall and these monsters are coming out) is set a year before the events of "Try Until You Can't". And this particular story is ridiculous, just saying.

* * *

Clint Barton grumbled to himself as he walked out of the infirmary, trying his best not to pick at the bandage on his face or hand. He just returned from a job in Australia that went well despite him getting injured. And it the injuries weren't really from the mission objective. Poor Clint was climbing down an old fire escape that broke underneath him, sending him down a few stories before he grabbed onto a window ledge.

But then his grip slip and he fell onto the rubble. Thankfully all he got from it was scratches, bruises, and a cut up hand. And several tetanus shots.

All he wanted right then was lunch. He checked his phone to see the time and was surprised that he had a few texts and missed calls. They were all from the same person: Remy Black. He checked the first text, noticing it seemed rushed by the amount of typos he read.

 _PLZ COM 2 MOFFCIC IF UR NTBUS_

The second one was no better. Hell, there were even _more_ typos. And the third text? Jumbled letters and exclamation points.

Clint waited to listen to the calls until he headed down the hall and into an elevator. Last he remembered, she was filling in for someone in HR who was on maternity leave. And that office was on the tenth floor. With a sigh, he pressed the button for Remy's floor before checking his voice mail.

The first message was difficult to hear because she was talking so fast. And loud. "OHMYGODPLEASECOMETOMYOFFICEOHMYGODINEEDHELPRIGHTNOW."

Well, alarm bells went off in Clint's head and he wished for the elevator to move faster.

The second the doors were open to the floor the HR department was on, Clint burst through the doors, knocking over several agents as he raced to Remy's office. The door was closed and the lights were off. That was _not_ a good sign. He wondered why the hell no one else was panicking on the floor. Oh well, he couldn't dwell on that as he grabbed the door handle and opened it, forcing his way inside.

"Remy!"

She was sitting with her legs tucked under her body as she sat on her office chair, a hat and scarf wrapped around her head while she wore a jacket and gloves. The gloves were somehow pulled up over the cuffs of her jacket, as though she was creating some sort of impregnable suit. She looked up from her computer when he burst in, eyes wide in confusion.

"Clint?" She asked, her voice muffled from the scarf. "What are you doing here?"

He stared at her for a moment, the small adrenaline rush he felt slowly dying away. "I... got your texts? And call? It sounded urgent! What's wrong? Why isn't anyone else panicking?"

Remy eyes widened further and he could see her face grow red. "Oh, _shit_ , that was you I called?"

"...yes?" He was wondering if his savior moment was in vain. Remy covered her face and groaned. Clint raised an eyebrow and flipped the office light on, only for Remy to squeal. "Holy shit, woman, what is it?!"

"THERE!" She pointed at the doorway, pushing the chair away from the desk. "Kill it, please! Fucking kill it!"

Clint spun around when she pointed, pulling his gun out and aiming it at... the fucking spider on the wall. He couldn't believe it. He holstered his gun and looked back at her, surprise on his face. "You're joking. I thought something was seriously wrong because you were screaming in the voicemail you left me."

"Do I _look_ like I'm joking?!" She squawked, wrapping the scarf tighter around her face, further muffling her voice. "That monster has been in here since I got in this morning and the rest of the HR team refuse to kill it!"

"So why did you text me?" Clint asked as he kept an eye on the spider. It was a huge motherfucker, really, and even he was a little intimidated by it. "God, I thought maybe you were being held hostage or were about to be murdered."

"Because I texted the last person I communicated with, and I thought it was Phil, but apparently it was you." She whined softly, covering her eyes. "I had the lights off so it couldn't see me! I didn't want it to try and murder me in here!"

"But... if the lights are off, then you also cannot see it." Clint pointed out as he edged away from the wall, looking for something to catch the spider with. "You realize this, right?"

"Shut uuuuuppppp and kill it!" Remy begged.

Clint shook his head and grabbed a mug from her desk. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Uh." He grabbed a piece of mail next. "I'm gonna catch the eight legged fucker?"

"And what, travel down the elevator holding it between the envelope and mug?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He noticed she never budged from her chair. "Can't you just kill it and flush it down the toilet?"

"You're really terrified of it, aren't you?" He teased as he turned his attention back to the spider. The fucker had moved now, but thankfully wasn't quite out of reach for him. "For some reason you don't strike me as the type to be scared of something you can kill with a shoe."

"I have never liked them." Remy grumbled, voice clearer now since she lowered the scarf. "Now will you take care of it, please?"

"Who were you trying to get a hold of?" Clint asked as he moved to catch the spider in the mug. Huh. The little fucker was _fast_ , scurrying away from Clint. With a frown, the archer tried again.

"Phil." Remy replied, her eyes on the spider. "Look, if you just kill it-"

"Not gonna kill it." He told her as he tried _again_. After his forth attempt, the spider was finally out of reach. "Sonofabitch."

"Seriously? Why aren't you gonna kill it?" She asked, biting down on her lip as she turned her attention to him. Watching him was far more interesting than seeing the spider.

Clint shrugged as he stepped back to watch the spider. It was in the corner of the office now and there were two bookshelves and an arm chair blocking easy access for Clint. "It's more scared of you than you are of it."

"Bullshit." Remy retorted. "I'm terrified of it. And if Phil was here, it would be dead by now."

"Well, Coulson is busy babysitting Tony Stark." Clint told her as he glanced over at her. She had now removed the scarf and hat, her eyes looking between him and the spider. "You really want this thing gone, don't you?"

"I'm ready to burn down the entire building to get rid of it."

"Wow, that's..." He stepped up on the arm chair now, managing to get within arms reach of the spider. "I actually don't know what that is. Domestic terrorism?"

"It's called killing a spider. Now can you please get rid of it so I can get back to work? It's inhibiting my work."

"Yea, yea." And there was a quiet thump and cheer as Clint successfully placed the mug over the spider. Carefully, he slipped the piece of mail between the lip of the mug and wall, a triumphant grin on his face as he hopped off the chair. "Caught it. Wanna see it?"

"Barton, I swear, if you let that thing out after all this..."

"I'm not gonna do that." Clint insisted as he carefully moved back the piece of mail to peer into the cup. He stared at it for a moment before frowning. Remy watched him curiously.

"What is it?"

"Where is the spider?" He asked, lifting up the piece of mail. A sharp intake of breath was heard and out of the corner of his eye he saw Remy pushed herself further away from him. Slowly, he flipped the piece of mail over and dropped it suddenly. The fucking spider had been on it all a long.

Remy shrieked.

Clint stomped his boot.

They lapsed into silence, eyes on the ground before they looked at each other. Then there was a knock at the door, startling them both.

"Agent Black?" Agent Crane, an older man, asked through the door. "Everything all right in there?"

"Everything is, uh, fine?" Remy managed to reply as she stood up from her chair. "Sorry, it's all good, I promise."

"Well, if you're sure..." And they could hear his retreating footsteps. Slowly, Remy moved from behind her desk to where Clint was standing. He hadn't moved since stomping his foot.

"Did you kill it?" She asked cautiously as she slowly removed her gloves. Clint raised his foot and, sure enough, there was a dead spider on the ground. "Oh thank God. You saved me."

"Ugh, that really was a big motherfucker." Clint grumbled, scraping his shoe on the carpet despite Remy's protests. He checked his shoe again before looking at her. "I feel like you owe me for saving your life there."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow at that. In reality, _hell yes_ she would do anything for him at that point because this was Clint fucking Barton. She was still kind of madly in love with him. "What sort of payment does my hero want? I mean, I'm pretty flexible with anything."

Clint scratched the back of his head, trying to think of a payment. "You can always buy me a beer or something. Maybe tomorrow, or something, if you're not busy?"

"Tomorrow? Friday?" She frowned, mentally checking her schedule to make sure there was nothing. "I don't see why not. Got a place and time in mind?"

He shrugged. "That bar we went to last time, maybe? O'Malley's? Is that okay?"

"Sure!" Remy grinned, trying to reign in her excitement. "I'll meet you there around, uh, seven? I'll even buy you food since you were so heroic in here."

Clint grinned. "Great. I'll see you tomorrow at seven."

* * *

He bailed on her kind of last minute. Like, do last minute that Remy was standing in front of the bar, waiting for him, when she got the text. Apparently there was a job that he was needed for in New Mexico and it was incredibly short notice. He seemed to feel bad in the novel length text message he wrote, apologizing for having to cancel their plans, but he was going to take a raincheck on the beer and food.

And really, Remy was kind of used to this from Coulson. With working for SHIELD, it was common to have life disrupted at the drop of a hat. You never knew what could happen so it was best to be flexible with changes. And even though it happened, she still didn't like it.

A small part of her told her that this was the Universe's way of keeping her from trying to hook up with the archer, and really, the Universe could fuck off. Remy was determined to at least let the archer know how she felt even if it ended with embarrassment and her relocating to another SHIELD office elsewhere.

Remy nodded to herself. Yea, that was it. When he came back from New Mexico she would tell him how she felt and they could go from there. If he didn't feel the same way, okay, she would move on. But if he reciprocated those feelings? _Then hell yes._

All she had to do was wait for him to come back from New Mexico, tell her what he could about the mission, and she would tell him. Yes. That was a reasonable enough plan.

Feeling rather good about it now, Remy ordered herself a drink and went to find a seat in the noisy bar.

* * *

 **Closing Note:** I love fall but I hate spiders. There have already been two the size of elephants in the house and I cannot kill spiders because I am that afraid of them. And so the way Remy reacts is similar to how I'd react: shrieking and begging for help. Also, I got this idea from an imagines blog on tumblr and thought it'd be kind of funny for these two. I was hoping to use these one-shots to like, build on their friendship before the start of the story, so, you know, building a romance and all that.

Also, if it wasn't clear, this story is set like, a day before Coulson goes to New Mexico. That is why Clint is hanging around.


	3. Parenting?

**Author's Note:** Another one shot. This one is set like, six months after Remy comes into Coulson's care. And I enjoyed writing it because I realize I want to write more of them hanging out together while she is a teenager, because srsly, Coulson is the best and I love his character way to much.

* * *

Phil Coulson always wondered what it was like to have kids. Sure, were he not a SHIELD agent and completely devoted to the agency, he wouldn't have minded getting married and having a few kids, but obviously life didn't work out that way. He often wondered what it would have been like to go to PTA meetings, sporting games, or even throwing a silly themed birthday party. But it would never happen. His job would never allow such a lifestyle, so he pushed it back to the dark corner of his mind reserved for the 'Never Ever Gonna Happen' dreams, such as meeting Captain America and getting his autograph.

Coulson was married to his job and nothing would change that. Ever. Junior agents were practically his children in a way, so why did he need _actual_ children? Most everyone knew that if you had a problem, go to Coulson, because he would either help you take care of it or give you the advice you needed to handle it yourself. Why have children when he was practically the agency's stand in father? It was almost fulfilling. _Almost._

So that time six months ago when he came face to face with a surly, yet oddly charming, teenage girl, and learned her story, he wondered what it would have been like had she grown up differently. When he saw her standing awkwardly outside her house two days later, looking utterly terrified and so incredibly young right then, he approached her with a solution to her problem: let him be her legal guardian so she could have the chance at a somewhat normal life.

It somehow worked, though Coulson was away more often than he would like from her. It was a trial, sure, and he would often stare at his phone, almost expecting a call from her with a question about something, but it never came. And when he'd come home from a job, he'd find her camped out on the couch, restless and complaining about sleeping on that "awful slab you call furniture, I mean come on, get a new couch, Phil". They were awkward and unsure about each other, but he was pleased that she warmed up enough to be honest with him about things, and he was the same way.

But she kept her secrets and he kept his. She knew he worked for SHIELD – obviously, that's why he was in her house that time when they met. He knew she had a photographic memory. And since she felt safe with him, she also found a love for playing pranks. And it didn't help that he sometimes started their prank wars.

However, they had made a deal that the prank wars stay between them and no one else get involved.

So when he got the call on his phone from her high school, saying he needed to come to the office immediately for a discipline issue with his ward, he wondered what she did to warrant this. All the secretary told him was that it was that she pulled a horrible prank on a teacher and that Coulson needed to come to the school immediately for disciplinary action against Remy.

Apparently this was one of the things to be expected with having kids.

Coulson left the office and headed to the school twenty minutes away. He had been there a few times, mostly so Remy could get adjusted to the new environment, but he knew he could drive himself there blindfolded if needed. He parked his car and hurried into the building, ignoring the security guard as he walked into the office. The secretary looked up at him, smiling politely.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Phil Coulson." He told her. "I believe you called me about Remy Black?"

"Ah, yes." The demeanor of the secretary immediately changed from pleasant to sour. "She's with the principal and Mr. Thompson right now." She pointed to a door to the left of her desk. "You can go right in."

And that's what Coulson did. He marched over to the door and let himself in. Now, he was trying to not be biased about the situation, but there was a surge of protectiveness that overcame him when he saw Remy sitting in a chair in front of the principal and teacher, hugging herself as she glared at the two. When he stepped in, she glanced up at him, eyes widening with fear. Aw hell. He never wanted her to look at him like that.

"Ah, Mr. Coulson. We meet again." The principal, Ms. Shore, said, smiling. "Please, have a seat."

"What's going on?" Coulson asked Remy as he took a seat beside her. She shrugged, withdrawing further into herself as she turned her gaze to Mr. Thompson, her eyes narrowing. If looks could kill, Coulson was sure that the teacher would have been long dead. He had only ever seen Remy give that look once before, and it was to the microwave when a bag of popcorn caught fire. "Remy?"

"Wasn't my fault." She murmured, looking down at her feet. He frowned, looking back at the principal.

"Do I get to know what's going on?" He asked, trying to sound civil.

Ms. Shore held out a form. "It appears as though Ms. Black pulled a not so pleasant prank on Mr. Thompson."

"Oh?" Coulson raised an eyebrow. Sure, the two of them played pranks on each other, but they were never malicious in nature. It was always in good fun. "What was this prank?"

"She filled my office with balloons!" Mr. Thompson growled, glaring at Remy as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "I want to see the little bitch expelled!"

Coulson saw red at that moment, but he kept his composure, instead gripping the armrests of the chair. "I'm going to ask that you not refer to her as that."

"Mr. Thompson, I will have you leave if you don't keep a civil tongue!" Ms. Shore snapped, glaring at him.

"She filled the balloons with _glitter_!" Thompson roared, slamming his fist on the table. Remy jumped, eyes wide with fear as she looked up at the teacher. It was a little difficult to be scared for lon when he was tugging at the shirt he was wearing, a mix of extreme anger and discomfort on his face. "I want her expelled and for _you_ to pay for the cleaning!" He pointed at Coulson. "Or I will sue your ass for damages!"

It was impressive how calm Coulson was. "Did she say why she did it?" He asked. Thompson and Shore side-eyed each other before they shook their heads. "Now, she's only been in my custody barely six months, but I've come to notice that she doesn't do things unless she has a reason for them."

"She's a psychotic little bitch, that's why!" Thomspon snarled, glaring down at Remy. It was taking everything in Coulson's power not to kill the man with the stapler that was sitting in front of him. Thompson straightened up, shifting his weight on his feet as he stood three, glaring at the two.

"Mr. Thompson, that will do! Step outside my office right now!" Shore ordered as she jumped to her feet, pointing to the door. "I will not have you speaking to a student like that!"

The teacher looked like he was ready to fight, but instead he sneered at Coulson and Remy before stomping out of the room. With an aggravated sigh, Shore shook her head and sat back down. "I am so sorry about that, really. He should never have said those things."

"I'd hate to see what he's like as a teacher." Coulson replied, shaking his head. He turned to Remy. "Can you tell me why you filled balloons with glitter and put them in his classroom?"

"He's an asshole." Remy mumbled, looking down at her lap. "I didn't like what he was sayin' about me and some other students."

Shore perked up. "What did he say, Remy? Was this prank retaliation for something he said or did?"

The teenager nodded, picking at her nails. The adults looked at each other before Coulson put his hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, now chewing on her bottom lip.

"Tell me what happened, Remy." He said firmly. "You're not in trouble with me if it was justified."

She nodded again, keeping her eyes on Coulson and ignoring Shore. "He... me, Teddy, Shari were waiting for class to start. Thompson teaches history, you know, and also some P.E. classes, I guess. Anyway, me and Shari were saying how we wanted to join the soccer team for our junior year, because it would be fun, and Teddy mentioned that he tried out for the guy's team but didn't make it."

Coulson nodded, letting her know he was listening. She looked back down at her nails. "Thompson was listening, I guess, and so he said fat kids like Teddy would get picked for teams more often if they didn't help themselves to second helpings at lunch. And... and that girls should stop pretending to be interested in sports to get guys because only lesbians play sports."

Shore tensed up, staring across her desk at Remy. "Did he really say that?"

She nodded. "'cept he didn't say lesbian. Said the 'd' word, but I don't wanna say that word." Remy looked back at Coulson. "So... so uh, last night, when I said I was having a late night study thing with Teddy and Shari? We... we were filling balloons with rainbow glitter and putting them in his office. The idea was that as soon as he popped one, he'd get glitter bombed." She looked over at Ms. Shore. "Please don't punish Teddy and Shari. This was not their idea. They helped me with the balloons and all but I was the one who actually entered the school and put them in his office, so if you're gonna punish someone, it needs to be me. They... they're good students and I don't want this on their record or anything, please!"

"Relax, Remy." Shore said as she pulled out a form from her desk. "Just take a deep breath. Are there witnesses to what he said besides you three?" The teenager nodded. "Well, I'm going to have a talk with the class about this and we'll take care of this."

"A-Am I expelled?" Remy asked, tears in her eyes. "I was just... it wasn't right of him to say that, you know. I don't like bullies! And he was cruel how he said it! It wasn't joking or anything!"

"I believe you, Remy." Coulson told her, squeezing her shoulder. "You're not in trouble with me." He looked up at the principal. "And I imagine you won't be in a lot of trouble with the school either, considering there will be an investigation for what was said. Right?"

Shore nodded. "Remy will not be expelled if the class can back up the story about what was said. However, I do ask that if a teacher says something like this again that you come straight to the principal and not handle it yourself, understood?"

Remy shrugged. "Yea, I guess. I'm sorry."

"It won't happen again, right?"

"No..." She agreed, looking back down.

"Very well." Shore smiled at the two. "It's Thursday. I'm going to technically-not-suspend Remy from class tomorrow to give her a day off. I know that sometimes students in her situation don't always handle this level of excitement very well, so I'll see you Monday and we should have everything sorted out by then, all right?"

"But my classes..." Remy bit down on her lip and looked at Coulson.

"I'll talk to your teachers" Shore told her. "Don't worry. Take the day off." She smiled at them. "You two can be excused now."

The two got up and Remy grabbed her backpack. Coulson went to the door first with Remy standing behind him. Thompson was still out there, glaring at them. Coulson knew Remy was tensing up. She wasn't able to handle adult males being angry at her just yet, considering what she went through with her father. She stayed behind him as they walked passed Thompson.

"Y'know, kid, you keep this sort of thing up, you'll end up expelled and working the streets for petty cash." The man snarled, trying to look intimidating as he scratched furiously at his legs through his jeans.. "'course, even if you graduate you'll go down that route."

Coulson stopped in his tracks. Sighing, he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Remy. "Go wait in the car. I'll be right out."

"But-"

"I'll be right out, Remy." His tone was gentle, yet firm, and she immediately hightailed it out of there.

Coulson came out a few minutes later, letting himself into the car. Remy looked up from a book she was reading – _The Awakening_ by Kate Chopin. He raised an eyebrow at it. "Aren't you a little young to read that?"

"Don't avoid my unasked question, Phil." She retorted, sticking a bookmark on her page and stuffing the book back into her bag. "What did you do to him?"

He started up the car. "What makes you think I did something?"

"Because you're like, an agent who can kill people with a stapler or something." Remy told him. "And because you were looking like you were gonna kill him. So did you?"

"Why do you go straight to thinking I've killed people?" He asked, looking offended as he pulled out of the parking lot. "And I didn't kill him. We had a friendly chat." He glanced at Remy. The teenager gave him that same look she gave him the first time they met: unimpressed and surly. "I merely told him that if he ever spoke to you like that again that no one would ever be able to find his remains. That's all."

"Oh, well, that's better than killing him." She replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Coulson shrugged, glancing over at her with a smile as he drove. "It is. Now, I did notice that he was... scratching himself a lot. Is that normal?"

"Oh, that." Remy shrugged as she leaned back in her seat. "I put itching powder in his shoes and uh, boxers."

"... do I want to know how you managed that?" Coulson asked as they approached a stop light. She grinned mischievously at him.

"I managed to get into the locker room while he was teaching PE." She told him, looking quite smug now. "And he has gym clothes and his classroom clothes. The classroom clothes were just sitting out and I thought, you know, I have this itching powder left over from that time I used it on you, so..."

"You didn't."

"Shoes, jeans, underwear, t-shirt." Remy shrugged. "Gave them a good dusting this morning before I ran off to English."

Coulson shook his head, but he was grinning. Somehow, he felt like he should be worried that he created such a monster, yet at the same time, incredibly proud of what she did.

"You know, if you're up for it," He began as he drove the car down the street. "That diner finally opened up near the apartment. We should grab some dinner there and find some movies to watch. I was thinking we could marathon the original three Star Wars movies."

"Only if I can have a strawberry milkshake." Remy bartered with a grin. "And we split a large order of fries."

Coulson nodded. "Sounds like a deal, kid."


	4. She's No Good With Words (But I'm Worse)

**Author's Note:** I wanted to write some ridiculous pre-relationship stuff and this one shot happened. Also learned recently that my college adviser's wife had a baby and they named him - wait for it - Remy. Which is awesome and I thought it was kind of hilarious. He pronounces it as 'Reh-me" like uh, that Remy Martin drink. In my mind, with Remy Black, I always say it more as "Ray-me". Oh well.

Anyways. Enjoy this ridiculousness. This is what I do when I'm not working on schoolwork.

Also this is set like, a month or so prior to the events of "Try Until You Can't".

* * *

Remy usually didn't care about Valentine's Day. She didn't understand why people chose _one_ day out of the year to show their significant other just how much they meant to them. Why not do it every fucking day? Or any other day that wasn't showered in pink and red hearts or that chalky candy hearts that Coulson secretly enjoyed? Why were babies in diapers holding bows and arrows considered 'cute' and used as decoration for the department she was working in at that time?

It was just weird. And it was still four fucking days until the actual holiday, so why were people getting _that_ excited about it right now? It was just insane.

Okay, and maybe she was feeling a little more cynical having just been dumped by her last boyfriend. Agent Williams was kind of a dick anyway, so she wasn't too sorry to see him go, but really, sitting near her coworkers who were getting flowers and chocolates didn't help her mood, so when Agent Potter offered her one of the chocolates he had received from his boyfriend, she just angrily stuffed it into her mouth and chewed it before he told her they were spicy habanero chocolates.

She didn't care much for spicy food at all.

So when she came back from the bathroom, face flushed from the heat of the snack and the embarrassment of it all, she was confused as to why Potter and another agent were both grinning at her. Remy patted herself down, making sure her shirt was still buttoned and that her skirt hadn't ridden up. Her tights were pulled up and her shoes were on correctly, so why were they all grinning at her like that?

"Okay, what?" She finally asked, not wanting to get any closer to them. God, did they record her stuffing the chocolate into her mouth and then running off? She was going to destroy their phones if they did. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, but you need to see your desk." Agent Handler told her with a grin, leaning back in her seat as she watched Remy. The younger agent wrinkled her nose and finally marched over to her desk.

In the seven minutes Remy had been gone, someone had dumped pink, white, and red heart shaped confetti all over her desk with a box of those dorky candy hearts. There were actually a few of the candies on the desk. Each had their own unique message.

 _U r a QT_

 _Kiss Me!_

 _Nice butt_

Okay, that last one had to have been a custom one. Remy picked up the obnoxious looking yellow one that complimented her butt, staring at it for a moment before looking over at Potter and Handler. "Okay, guys, very funny. Thanks for making my desk a mess."

"Wasn't us." Potter replied, still grinning. Handler nodded in agreement. "You got yourself a secret admirer, Agent Black."

"Okay, who?" Remy asked as she started sweeping some of the confetti into her hand. That shit was everywhere. Potter and Handler looked at each other for a moment before looking back at her.

"We were threatened into silence." Potter told her. "Sorry."

"Can't tell you." Handler added. "You just have to wait until Valentine's Day."

Remy groaned as she dumped some of the confetti into the trash. She was going to be finding that stuff everywhere for weeks.

* * *

When Remy got to her desk the next morning, there was a box of her favorite chocolates and a little plush red panda. Okay, this was probably Coulson. He was the only one to know about the chocolates and her love of red pandas. But it was a little weird that he was doing this at work, so when lunch time came around, she gathered the items into her purse and headed to his office.

He was in there, filling out paperwork when she came in. Without a word, Remy sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk and put her feet up.

"Get your feet off the desk if you want to walk out of here." He warned, not looking up from the paperwork. She put them back on the ground and sat up a little straighter. "What do you want, Remy?"

"First off, how did you know it was me? You haven't looked up from your work since I walked in." She said with a grin. "And second, why are you covering my desk with confetti and candy?"

Coulson finished his paperwork before finally looking up. "I recognized your perfume. And besides Barton, you're the only one who has the audacity to put your feet up on my desk." He checked over the last page he had worked on before he set the pile of paperwork aside. "As for the candy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Phil." Remy pulled the red panda from her purse to show him. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." He said with a frown. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay, but like, no one knows I like red pandas… and yet one appears on my desk." Remy told him, now frowning as she held the plush toy up. "Like, I doubt it's a lucky guess on the red panda and candy. Not to mention it would be weird for you to give me a candy heart that reads "Nice butt"."

"I'm sure it's just a lucky guess. Nothing to worry about." Coulson said with a smile. "If you want, I'll send it to the lab to have them check for finger prints or DNA. But they'd have to probably take the toy apart."

Remy stared at him as she slowly placed the toy back into her bag. "You're cruel, Phil. This thing is too cute to do that too."

"I imagine it's a lucky guess then." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be concerned."

"I'm not so much concerned as uh… curious?" Remy said with a frown. "Should I do something about this? I don't have any idea who it could be now…"

"Can't help you there, sorry." Coulson replied, leaning back in his seat. "Now, don't you have work to do?"

Remy wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him before she got up and left his office.

* * *

Her desk was covered in the same confetti again when she got back after lunch. There were candy hearts again. One read _Call me,_ while another just read _Let's Kiss_. Potter and Handler claimed secrecy again. Remy was wondering if she could get someone from the lab to check for prints.

* * *

"Why do you look so murderous?" Clint asked as he took a seat across from Remy at the table. She looked up from her salad, glaring at him as she stabbed a tomato. He covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. Her bangs and eyebrows were covered in glitter. There was smudges of glitter on her cheeks and tip of her nose. "Did you get into a fight with a preschooler?"

"Someone sent me a glitter bomb." She grumbled, reaching over to steal a few of his fries. They were sitting in the cafeteria of the Triskelion; Remy brought a salad from home but Clint had opted for a sandwich and fries. "It was disguised as those like, English holiday crackers – where you pull apart the ends and like, some candy or something pops out, you know? I held it to close to my face and pulled it apart. Exploded in my face."

"Oh my God." He grinned, still trying not to laugh as he reached over and plucked one of the cherry tomatoes from her salad. "That…okay, that's fucking hilarious."

"Shut up." She grumbled. "I tried to get it out but it's difficult. Got down my shirt, too." She glared at him when he took the tomato. "You know, you steal my tomatoes all the time. Why don't you just bring a box from home or something?"

He popped it into his mouth before licking his fingers clean. "Taste better when I steal them from you."

Remy shook her head, grinning at him now as she stole a few more fries. "Right, well, I haven't seen you in a few days. You don't know I'm being tormented."

"Tormented?" The archer repeated with a frown. "With what? Glitter?"

"I have a secret admirer." She told him as she ate the fries. "Covered my desk in confetti one day with candy hearts – one that said I had a nice butt. Yesterday there was a red panda and box of my favorite candy. And, oh, _more_ confetti."

"A red panda, eh?" Clint took a bite of his sandwich, looking her over. "You know, you kind of look like a red panda sometimes. Tiny and fluffy."

She gave him an unimpressed look before throwing a tomato at him. "Shut up. And then today was the glitter bomb. I'm being tormented."

"I just think someone likes you." He told her with a shrug. Remy looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "What? Going through all that trouble tells me someone likes you."

Remy made a face. "I think someone hates me. And I doubt someone 'likes' me, Clint."

"Aw, no, don't be hard on yourself." He said with a pout. "I really think someone likes you and they just don't know how to say it."

"I'd rather they just tell me." She sighed as she finished off her salad. "I mean, fuck, at least send an email or something instead of covering me in glitter. I'm gonna be scrubbing glitter out of places for a week."

"Well… that's a lovely image?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow. Remy rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Barton."

* * *

It was now Valentine's Day and Remy was not wanting to go to her desk for she feared what she would find. If she had to clean up any more confetti, she was going to honestly commit murder on SHIELD property. Sure, she'd get arrested, but it would be so worth it because that glitter bomb was a fucking act of war. It had ended up in her shoes that day. Coulson looked slightly murderous when she took her shoes off back at the apartment and glitter got everywhere. If it had gotten near any of his Captain America things, Remy would have probably been dead and buried somewhere in Iceland or something.

She sighed heavily as she entered the room where her desk was. Potter and Handler were nowhere to be seen, which was kind of odd because they were always there before her. Remy didn't dwell too long on her missing coworkers as she walked over to her desk, dreading whatever it was that was waiting for her.

What surprised her was Clint standing there, looking kind of uncomfortable as he held an iris. Remy stared at him, really confused now as she tried to process what was in front of her.

"An iris?" Was all she managed to she set her purse down beside him on the desk. "You know that means something in uh, flower language, right?"

Clint's cheeks reddened as he held the flower out to her. "Look, uh, I'm sorry about the last few days. It was me. I thought it would be fun but I didn't want to upset you."

"Oh, that was you?" She took the iris from him as she smiled.

"Yea, uh, I know your ex just dumped you, and you know, he's a fucking dick." Clint told her with a frown. "And I wanted to make this not a crappy few days for you with everyone else celebrating, and so I talked with Coulson and he told me your favorite candies and that you liked red pandas."

Remy nodded, listening to him as she twirled the flower in her fingers slowly. "Okay, but the candy heart messages…"

"Oh, that was uh, my idea." He told her, going pinker. "Please don't file a sexual harassment suit against me for them. Um, I was just… trying to make you smile. You seemed kind of miserable and I just wanted to make you smile."

"Well, you got me covered in glitter." She began as she set the flower down on her desk. "Normally you gotta get six shots of vodka in me for that to happen." She crossed her arms, looking him over. "Clint, look…"

"No, uh, I really wanted too…" He sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to think of his next words. "I don't know, but uh, wanna be my Valentine this year? We can go out to dinner or something if you want. As friends, you know. Make fun of couples being sappy and shit."

Right. Friends. She managed to keep smiling. Valentine's Day was probably not the day to confess her undying love to Clint Barton when he didn't seem to share those similar feelings. "Sure, we can do that. Maybe when I'm done here in the office?"

"Yea, sure." Clint agreed with a smile. He stood there for another moment, looking like he wanted to say something else, but he just sighed and walked out. Once he was gone, Remy took a deep breath and sank into her chair. This was not how she wanted to start her Valentine's Day.

* * *

Clint let himself into Coulson's office and took a seat, propping his feet up on the desk. The other agent merely glanced at him before the archer hastily pulled his feet back. Then they sat in silence, not speaking as Coulson finished up some paperwork.

"What can I do for you, Agent Barton?" He asked, finally turning his attention to the archer.

Clint sighed. "Plan didn't work, sir. I don't think she was pleased with what I did."

"Oh?" Coulson asked, raising an eyebrow. He highly doubted that Remy was anything _but_ pleased. The younger agent had told him her feelings for the archer long ago and he did try to tell her _why_ dating within the agency could be bad, especially someone as active as Clint, but she wouldn't listen. So when Clint came to Coulson about a month ago, admitting to him and pretty much asking for his permission to _ask_ Remy on a date, well, Coulson decided not to get involved.

"Yea, she seemed… kind of weirded out." Clint sighed. "Sorry, uh, probably shouldn't be bothering you with this shit." The archer stood up and headed for the door. "Uh, don't tell her I talked to you about all of this, okay? I don't want her to think you were tryin' to set us up or something. It might get weird."

"Hm. Very well, Barton." Coulson replied with a nod. "Have a good rest of your day then."

Clint just nodded and left the office, going off to do who knows what. That left Coulson alone in his office once again, sort of not really plotting _something_ that might result in those two idiots telling each other how they feel.

He just didn't realize that it would take Clint breaking his damn arm and being cooped up in an office for the two idiots to _finally_ do something about it.

* * *

 **Closing Note:** It's almost Thanksgiving here in America and I wrote a story about Valentine's Day. Hm. I was working on a Halloween one-shot but realized it was gonna contain spoilers for the story so, yea. No.

Also, apparently in the ~language of flowers~ irises mean "I have a message for you". Clint likes Remy too but they're both idiots in not saying anything and he thought this ridiculous stunt would give him the courage, but Remy was just so like "oh my GOD someone hates me" that Clint figured she was not liking any of it, so. Hence awkwardness.


End file.
